


Pins and Needles

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, because there's angst, did I mention angst?!, trip does not survive - staying with cannon on this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip’s talking with Jemma, but he can’t focus on the words. It’s good that they have each other right now, because he doesn’t have anything left to offer them. He can’t even focus on what they are saying - for all he knows, they could be talking to him. All he can make out at this point is a persistent buzzing as he leaves them behind in the dark.</p>
<p>Mack was afraid of the dark. He had said so, before.</p>
<p>Fitz, on the other hand, welcomes it. He can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe if he spends enough time in the dark he’ll disappear. Jemma would say that it’s morbid to think that way, but there’s something comforting about no longer being a burden to the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pins and Needles

_“You don’t have to say things about Mack being alive just because he was my friend, Jemma.”_

Fitz can still remember saying those words out loud. He can feel the knot in his throat as he forced the words out, and the stabbing ache between his shoulder blades that had developed after hours of keeping himself together. It’s all still there… the fatigue, the misery winking at him from the corner of his eye - watching and waiting for his inevitable breakdown, but pushed to the side because there was a job to do.

In hindsight, he’s been breaking down since Ward pressed the button that would ruin him for life. He’s been losing pieces of himself with every stutter and stop, and it was so easy to ignore when there was still hope for recovery, but the realization that Mack is down in the ruins broken - either dead or… gone - there’s no hope left to cling to. Fitz is as lost to himself now as Mack is to the team, and he can’t help but feel like he should have been the one to be lost to the ruins.

Trip’s talking with Jemma, but he can’t focus on the words. It’s good that they have each other right now, because he doesn’t have anything left to offer them. He can’t even focus on what they are saying - for all he knows, they could be talking to him. All he can make out at this point is a persistent buzzing as he leaves them behind in the dark.

Mack was afraid of the dark. He had said so, before.

Fitz, on the other hand, welcomes it. He can’t help but think that maybe, just  _maybe_ if he spends enough time in the dark he’ll disappear. Jemma would say that it’s morbid to think that way, but there’s something comforting about no longer being a burden to the team.

=

The ruins shake around them, and it’s all Fitz can do to pull Jemma into his arms as they wait for the inevitable. He had almost been lost to the darkness below, had been tempted to stay there in anticipation of the blast, but there had still been a job to do.

There’s always been a job to do, or a kind word from Mack - the warm brush of his shoulder against Fitz’s as they worked together, or a breathy laugh that Fitz alone could manage to pull from him. There’s no distraction now though, just the stone ceiling crumbling around them, and Fitz would give most anything for it to be over…

He would give anything except for Jemma’s safety, so he clutches her closer and keeps her safe as the stones rain down. He’s certain that there will be time to surrender to the void that’s been growing within him, but it will have to wait until after he ensures her safety. He can make sure that Trip’s there for her, he check in on the rest of the team, and  _then_  he can let go. Fitz will have time to do it right, but right now he needs to focus on getting them to safety - after all, there’s always a job to do.

=

He can’t feel anything anymore.

There’s no relief that Mack survived. There’s no remorse that Trip didn’t.

It’s like he’s still trapped in the moment right before the water rushed in on them. He had been braced for death. He had welcomed it. He had understood what was coming, and yet…

Really, it’s like he never surfaced with Simmons. He’s still there - somewhere, deep, down under the surface of the ocean, trapped under the weight of the waves. They’ve been muttering for months about it.

_“Oh, poor Fitz. It’s so lucky that they saved him.”_

or,

_“He’s so brave.”_

or even worse,

_“Maybe he’ll get better.”_

There’s no better, and there’s no miracle cure. There’s only his broken brain and the shell of his body around it. There’s no relief from the weight that’s been smothering him - the need to be better, the need to be strong for everyone else but himself, the need to have Mack by his side. He’s this black hole of need - he needs, and needs, and needs - but there’s nothing there to fill the void.

Fitz is empty. He’s broken, and he can’t feel. He should have died months ago and he wishes that he had died today, because  _maybe_ in that moment before death he would have once again found the acceptance and freedom that he had felt the moment before the water rushed in on them. He had felt so much in that span of seconds… Love, for Jemma. Pride, in what he was able to sacrifice so that she would live. Hurt, from what Ward had been able to do to them. He had felt everything, and he was content with the knowledge that it would all be okay, because he could save Jemma. He could do one thing - just this one thing - and it would be alright.

Curled on his bed, hands fisted against his heart, he waits for something to happen. He waits for another job to do -  _there’s always a job to do_  - or some kind of catalyst that could get him going again.

Before (or is it after?), he wouldn’t allow himself the time to stop. He always had to keep going, because he knows - better than anyone - that there’s a danger in the quiet moments between actions and reactions. If you stop for a moment, even to just take a breath, there’s always the possibility that reality will catch up with you.

It’s quiet in his room now, just the ticking of the minute hand as it twitches along it’s set path. Just the clock and his loud, ragged breaths. He waits for the sleeping pills that he stole earlier to kick in. He waits, and he waits, and he waits, and

=

The pills make it difficult to wake up, they make everything blurred and off center, but he can still register the quiet knock before the tell-tale groan of the door as it’s eased open. He looks over his shoulder, and it’s Mack. He looks small in the dim light of the hallway, and it  _should_  hurt to look at him as anything other than whole, because Fitz knows what it’s like to feel less of yourself. He curls away from Mack, can’t bear to face him now, because they both survived and Fitz feels nothing.

The door closes again, and he’s halfway back to sleep when he feels the bed dip under Mack’s weight - feels a rush of cool air as the blankets are lifted, only for it to be followed by the warmth of Mack’s chest pressed tight against his back, his arms wrapping around his chest, hands closing around his tight fists. It’s quiet, just their breathing and the clock ticking away, and it’s too much. He can feel Mack’s face pressed against his neck, and he can feel Mack’s tears as he weeps quietly.

It’s too much, and it’s horrible because Fitz can barely hold himself together. He can’t -

he can’t…

He knows that Mack wouldn’t hold his weakness against him, that he would understand that Fitz is the last person to look to for help.

He also knows that lying here, wrapped up in Mack - it’s the first time that he’s felt anything in a long while, and it  _hurts_. It’s a physical pain in his chest, knowing that he can’t help Mack anymore than he can help himself.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes it out, and it’s so faint that he wants to redact it, wants to scream it instead. There’s no way to tell if Mack heard him because he doesn’t acknowledge the apology. Instead, he pulls Fitz even closer so that Fitz can feel his muscles tense and relax behind him.

It’s intimate, here in this moment between them, and everything hurts. Fitz wants to scream, or cry, or break everything on base. He wants to hurt something the way that he’s been hurt, the way that Mack’s been hurt. Fitz wants so badly, with every fiber of his being, to rage.

Fitz wants so much. He wants to be better, he wants to be perfect for Mack - to Mack. He wants to kiss away his tears, and he wants to break his fist against the concrete wall. Now that he’s hurting, it’s all he knows, and Mack’s tears have him undone because  _Mack_ isn’t supposed to be hurt. Not Mack.

It’s only once Mack starts shushing him softly, hand running along his side, that he notices his own tears. He can’t stop them, and everything aches as Mack soothes him, lips pressed into the join of his shoulder and neck.

It’s not a kiss.

It’s not a kiss, but it’s enough, with the warm presence of Mack curled around him, to loosen his fingers from their fists. With a ragged breath, he tangles his fingers with Mack’s.

It hurts. It all hurts, but there’s something to be said for the sharp ache of pain after being numbed for so long. It’s like the feeling you get when you go to stand after losing circulation to your feet - it’s unpleasant, but you can’t help but keep testing the pain - putting pressure on it until the feeling passes. Hands linked with Mack’s, Fitz lies in silence and stares at the wall, letting the feeling of pins and needles wash over him.

 He waits for it to pass.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my angsty interpretation of "What They Become" from Fitz's POV. There are suicidal thoughts sprinkled throughout as Fitz emotionally breaks down in the aftermath of Mack's possession/fall into the ruins. While this isn't a fluffy, romantic fic, I personally find hope in the FitzMack pairing, and I believe that the ending is bitter sweet with potential for a happy ending... after a lot of counseling.


End file.
